Monday, November 9, 2015

I'm THAT Mom

It is never a good sign when I start off a blog post saying,
“I am not a moron.” I’ll admit I’m not a rocket scientist—being related to one
and being friends with another, I can say this with some certainty—but I’m
pretty intelligent, have a good dose of common sense and am very intuitive.

However, I’m a mess when it comes to health forms.

No matter how many times I fill out the same ones, I never
get them right. Inevitably, I forget someone’s allergies, fill out the wrong
information or put one child’s information on the other child’s form. You have
not seen fear until you’ve looked into the eyes of a sleep-away camp counselor
suddenly faced with the prospect of having to explain menstruation to a
cabin-full of nine-year-old girls. Sorry I gave you the wrong child’s form.
Sorry. Sorry. So, so sorry.

And now we come to the swim team health forms.

For the third year in a row, the same paper and Internet
form had to be completed. Every year, I fill them out. Every year, I get a call
from the athletic department or the health office or sometimes both departments
telling me I made a mistake or asking me about something I incorrectly filled
out.

This year, I vowed to conquer the forms.

In October, when the forms were available, I printed them
out, delivered them to the physician, filled out the parent part and went
online to fill out the Internet part. I called the health office and had them
walk me, step-by-step, through the entire form. I asked a million
questions—yes, I’m THAT mom—and made sure every “i” was dotted and every “t”
crossed. I submitted them a month ahead of the deadline. And I waited.

I did not receive a call from the health office. I did not
receive a call from the athletic department. The only email I received was a
mass reminder to turn in the forms by the deadline.

Been there, done that.

Today, the teen attended the swim meeting prior to the start
of the first practice. In the middle of the meeting, she texted me, “So my
physical wasn’t approved for swim.”

No, no, no, no, no!

So in the middle of the meeting, I called the health office.
Ignoring the manners I’ve been taught (sorry Mom), I spoke over the person who
answered the phone—this was made easier by the fact that she had laryngitis and
couldn’t do much more than squeak—and asked why the child’s physical wasn’t
approved.

I’m not sure if she didn’t know, couldn’t talk or was scared
of me, but she handed me over to the head of the athletic department, who
informed me that the forms were sitting in the health office and just hadn’t been
delivered to him yet. But he had them now and she was approved.

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I'm a mom, wife, strategist, lover of snark, volunteer, shoe- and choco-holic. I write to escape the craziness of life. Sometimes I even write about that craziness! My blogs are usually a bit snarky; my books are contemporary romance. I also write freelance articles for magazines, newspapers, and edit newsletters.